Something More
by meatballs in the impala
Summary: Post-Cell. Wherein Bulma realizes what truly matters in life and that she is willing to fight to make sure she will never lose it. Bulma-centric. BV.


****status ****complete**  
><strong>prompts <strong>**_Something More _by Sugarland; _Where'd You Go? _by Fort Minor; _Stand By Me _by -'-morganbriefs-'-; _Change Of Heart Ch15 _by niteryde; _Μια Γυναίκα _by Stavento**  
><strong>warnings <strong>**language, tiny mentions of sex**  
><strong>pairings <strong>**Vegeta/Bulma**  
><strong>background <strong>**set in the seven years before the WMAT**  
><strong>notice <strong>**I'm psyched for finally pulling this story through! This song-inspired fic has been playing off in my mind ever since the beginning of summer and I never got around to actually writing it down. The seven years before Buu are by far my most favorite DBZ timeskip. Too bad Goku was dead. And I definitely got Vegeta's character this time!**  
><strong>notice2<strong> **Also, I'd like to say I'm sorry for not updating my other stories, but I just can't get down to writing anything. This one was half-finished already, and I really needed to focus on something other than my studies. 'Sides, if I focused on _Rhythm Of Love_, I would almost definitely write something crappy. You don't want that.**  
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><p><strong>SOMETHING <em>MORE<em>**

_"Some believe in destiny, and some believe in fate. But I believe that happiness is something we create."_

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><p>Bulma had to force herself to open her eyes that morning. Her temperamental Saiyan of a husband was, surprisingly, still asleep, snoring loudly from his side of the bed and occasionally mumbling incoherently. Although she could swear she heard something along the lines of "<em>I am the Prince of all Saiyans<em>" coming out of his mouth.

Such a phenomenon was common only on Mondays. It would seem that the Saiyan warrior had adopted the Earthlings' hatred towards Mondays and preferred to skip his morning training on such days. Even though he was a walking reminder that you shouldn't neglect your training and become soft during times of peace, Vegeta had come to adjust to life on Earth and espouse some of its inhabitants' customs in the years of inhabiting the blue planet.

But he had a better chance of letting himself be controlled by an evil wizard than openly admit that he enjoyed life on Earth—which he very much _did_.

She really hated Vegeta at that moment. He had the opportunity to sleep the morning away—and the rest of the day as well, in fact—while she had to rise in this ungodly hour and go to work, where she'd spend endless hours of nonstop working on blueprints and supervising other people's work—it sucked.

With a sigh and a final glare towards her sleeping husband, Bulma rolled off the bed and dragged her feet tiredly to the adjoined bathroom, lamenting the fact that Sundays seemed to pass faster than the other days of the week and that someone up there hated her bad.

She was _not_a morning person.

* * *

><p>Bulma emerged from upstairs half an hour later, fully dressed and perfectly made up. She wasted no time as she entered the kitchen and poured herself a cup of steaming coffee—courtesy of her sweet mother, who always rose early in order to prepare a large breakfast for their entire family—but mainly for Vegeta and Trunks—before retiring to her beautiful gardens.<p>

The heiress sipped her hot beverage quickly, staring out of the large window and wincing whenever a large portion of burning coffee entered her mouth. She was so caught up in mentally listing all the things that needed her attention for the day, that she failed to notice Vegeta taking a seat on the large table and starting to pile food on his plate. It was only when she finally emptied her mug and turned around to dispose it in the sink that she became aware of his presence in the room.

She flashed him a bright smile as she dug inside her purse for her capsule car. "Good morning," she greeted, earning a full-mouth grunt from the man. She exclaimed happily as she found her object of desire, before turning back to Vegeta. "Trunks should be up in about half an hour. My mom's taking him to school, and you have to pick him up at two—you know the draw." Bulma paused, waiting for a response.

When she got none, she continued, "Dad told me that he picked up some malfunctioning on the Gravity Room, so you better take it easy with the gravity stimulator until he figures out what's wrong. Oh! And Chi-Chi called yesterday to say that she'll pick up Trunks late in the afternoon, and he'll spend the night at the Sons," Bulma finished and glanced briefly at her wristwatch, before sliding her purse over her shoulder. "Well, I gotta run. See you later!"

And with one last smile at her husband's direction, she ran out the door and into the busy streets of West City.

* * *

><p>Bulma's day had definitely not started out well.<p>

Five minutes into driving to work, she had realized that she had forgotten her briefcase at home, and thus, she had to go back and retrieve it. Once at home, she had remembered that she had an extremely important meeting with the CEO of an allied company, and she had jumped into her car again and sped towards the company. Vegeta, of course, had flat out refused to fly her to work. Tch, that bastard.

Unfortunately for her though, it was a rush hour and the freeway was literally standing still. Desperately in need to save some time, Bulma had taken a shortcut to work, only to end up accepting shamelessly a speeding ticket from an officer. And just when it seemed that nothing else could go wrong, her car out of gas.

It had taken all in Bulma to not burst out screaming and spouting profanities in the middle of the streets—thanks to the anger management classes she had taken a few years back, when Vegeta had first moved in Capsule Corp. Sucking up her pride, she had encapsulated her car and walked the rest of the way to the company, since taxi drives seemed to be on a strike that day. Once there, she barely had time to catch her breath, before rushing into her meeting.

Bulma stepped out of the meeting room a little over an hour later, with a satisfied grin on her ruby lips—the trademark sign that she had just made a good deal. However, her joy was short-lived as, the moment she reached her office, there were a ton of things that needed to be taken care of as soon as possible.

Taking a deep breath, Bulma rolled up her sleeves, placed her businesswoman face on, and delved into blueprints and paperwork, and soon her computer's screen was smothered by colorful post-it notes. Needless to say, she was grateful to have had a cup of coffee back at home.

* * *

><p>It was around four-thirty when Bulma finally had most of the work done and allowed herself a break to grab a bite. She sat comfortably on her leather office chair and poked her salad with her fork.<p>

In all truth, she was too tired to even eat. Capsule Corporation was to release the new and improved capsules into the market the day after, and it was only logical that the company was in a frenzy. They had spent months in the labs, trying to increase the maximum capacity of the capsules, the variety of items they could storage, as well as their ability to preserve edibles among many others. It had taken a lot of effort and countless all-nighters on her part to be able to have the new capsules ready by the original deadline. It had been a challenge, and everyone knew that Bulma Briefs never backed down from one.

But now she was starting to regret it. All the endless hours of working and supervising the construction of the new capsules were finally catching up to her. She couldn't put her finger on when was the last time she had slept for more than four hours straight, but she knew that it had been long enough.

Bulma had been the President of Capsule Corp. for the last couple of years and it had been hectic since day one. While her father had done a wonderful job at running the company for too many years to count, ever since she stepped up to the top, she felt obliged to change a handful of things. It was a good thing her father supported her every decision.

Bulma's eyes came to rest on the two photo frames by her desk. One consisted of Gohan, Goten and Trunks in the stream behind the Sons' house at Mount Paozu, where the three boys pretended to be fishing—honestly, it looked like the two younger half-Saiyans were trying to drown Gohan. The other one comprised of her own little family—Vegeta, Trunks and herself. She smiled softly as she took the frame in her hands and ran her fingertips over the glass.

Vegeta was not the one to take photos of, and it had taken a great deal of effort on Bulma's part to finally convince him to participate in the family photo. She characteristically recalled threatening him with shutting down the Gravity Room and refusing to partake in any kind of sexual activities with him for two months, if he didn't "_sit down and let the photographer take the damn family picture!_" It was a memory to be laughed at, once recalled, but it oddly brought a frown to Bulma's lips.

How long had it been since she had last had some fun with Vegeta in the bedroom? Both in the beginning of their odd relationship, as well as after the defeat of Cell and Vegeta's acceptance of his new family, their achievements in that field were remarkable. Now she couldn't even name the last time she had felt his naked skin against hers and kissed those firm lips of his. For longer than she would have liked to admit, their only mutual activity in the bedroom—or in any other part of the house, for that fact—was sleep.

Bulma pursed her lips in thought. Her husband was not the one to openly complain for the lack of attention he was receiving. He usually showed his irritation though gestures, such as locking himself up in the Gravity Room and waiting until she sought him out, but he never actually _complained_. Sure, he gave signs, but Bulma had been too busy and too tired lately to pick up on them. With a sigh, she moved on to the next person in the photograph; getting reacquainted with Vegeta was already on the top five of her list.

Her features softened visibly as she looked into the sapphire blue eyes of her son staring back at her from the picture. Trunks had turned six a little over three months ago and Bulma could hardly believe it. It seemed like only yesterday that she was holding him for the very first time, a small, crying baby with a fury little tail between his legs. He may have looked so much like her superficially, but the arrogant personality and the tail was proof enough that he was Vegeta's son as well. It was so sad that time was floating so fast, like a river that would never turn back.

It was no news to Bulma that her son was a hell-raiser. Ever since Trunks had learnt how to walk, the boy was trouble personified. And when he had been introduced to Goku's—who was sadly, once again, demised—and Chi-Chi's youngest son, Goten, a diabolic duo had been brought together. The two half-Saiyans were more than difficult to handle, and the only one they seemed to listen to, unfortunately for their Earthling mothers, was Vegeta. It was no lie that during the five years that Goku had been dead, Vegeta had become—against his will or choice—more of a father to Goten than just the mean father of his best friend.

Both families had had a lot of trouble trying to decipher that behavior, but in the end, they had accepted the fact that Vegeta was the only male figure in Goten's life that could—sort of—take up on that role without giving the boy false hope. Gohan was out of the question—at fifteen years of age and at the peak of his studies, the last thing Gohan needed on his shoulders was the weight of being a parent.

On the other hand, Trunks had also played a major role in Goten's life, ever since the boy was born. Out of nowhere, the little Goku clone had found himself another brother. In all truth, Goten had never once felt like someone was missing from their little family, much to both Chi-Chi's and Gohan's surprise. While Goku was someone very precious to both of them, to Goten, the father he had never met was simply the man who had sired him. On contrast, Vegeta was the man he looked up to. His naïveté was the personality trait that—just like Goku—had guided him to believe that there was indeed goodness inside Vegeta's heart, no matter what everyone else seemed to think on the matter.

Bulma's eyes rested on the large window adorning her office as she pondered. West City expanded before her shiny blue eyes, the setting sun casting an orange glow on the houses and variable facilities.

In the past five years, the two families had grown impossibly close. The absence of Goku had a terrible impact on the Son family. Chi-Chi was left alone to give birth to Goten and raise two half-Saiyan boys with no help at all. Thus, it was only natural for Bulma to step in and extend a helping hand towards her oldest friend's wife. It was an odd, but pleasant, surprise that Vegeta accepted almost willingly to help out as well. It made sense, in a way. After all, he was the only one with experience on the adolescence of Saiyans. He had helped Gohan out through a very critical phase of his life, for which the Saiyan hybrid was thankful.

Bulma frowned as realization downed on her. During the last years, she had spent more time with the Sons and at Capsule Corp, instead of with her own family. She struggled for a whole ten minutes to recall the last time she had taken Trunks to the park and spent a good amount of quality time with the boy. She had been greatly surprised when Trunks had walked up to her a few days earlier, holding up to her a perfectly solved Rubik's cube. Bulma had to restrain herself from bursting out in tears in front of her son at the display. At six years of age, Trunks had already proven that he was a real Briefs with the brains he possessed. And, of course, his remarkable strength showed that he was indeed part Saiyan. Even though he would never admit it, Bulma knew that Vegeta was proud of their son.

She ran a hand through her hair in desperation. What the hell was she doing? She was becoming estranged to her husband and son. It had been a terribly long time since she had spent time with her family. Her job was sucking her life out of her. If she kept this up, she was bound to go home one day and feel like a complete stranger in her own house.

Bulma placed her palms flat against her mahogany desk and shook her head, her short blue hair dancing around her eyes. She would not let that happen. She would not let herself become estranged from her husband and child. Bulma grabbed a blank piece of paper from her drawer and started scribbling something down on it.

The new capsules would be released on the market tomorrow and she wouldn't have to spend all day at the labs anymore. Of course, there would be a lot of issues concerning the new capsules, because more and more people and companies would want to ally themselves to Capsule Corp. now that it was gaining more and more power. It was a fact that CC was in the top five most powerful and influential companies of the Earth. But her father could handle that situation pretty well. After all, he had been President for decades before she took over; he could definitely manage for a short while.

Bulma glanced at the clock on her office's wall and realized that her lunch break was over. She stood up and, with renewed morale, walked out of her office with the swagger she used to have when she was still the haughty Bulma Briefs—the proud and tough woman who managed to bend the mighty Saiyan prince to her wills, not the tired and sex-deprived businesswoman and full-time mother she had become now.

No, Bulma wouldn't give up without a fight. She was a woman who fought for the things she loved. And she would fight for Trunks and Vegeta. She wouldn't let her job take over her life—that was for sure.

* * *

><p>Bulma entered her house through the front door, closing it behind her with a soft 'click'. She walked tiredly to the living room, which, she found out, was in a complete chaos—which made her conclude that her mother had not entered the room at all that day. Clothes scattered on the floor, toys abandoned all over the place, junk food wrappers on the coffee table… But they could wait.<p>

She kicked off her heels to the side and dropped her purse and briefcase carelessly on the floor, making her way towards the mini-bar on the other side of the room. She poured herself a glass of red wine and sat down on the comfy couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table. Not exactly the ladylike behavior, but she could care less. She leaned back and smiled; not even Armageddon could move her at that moment.

Bulma felt her muscles relax in the darkness of the living room. It was around seven-thirty, but the sun had already set a few hours earlier and West City was now relying solely on artificial lighting. An overwhelming silence spread inside the compound—Trunks was already at the Sons', her parents were obviously out for dinner, and Vegeta was probably still training. None of them would expect her to be back from work before ten in the least, so they went on with their daily routine.

That discovery brought a scowl to Bulma's lips. Had this been going on for so long that her absence was now part of her family's daily life? That situation had to change. Bulma was ready to take life back in her hands and fill herself in on all the things she had missed out.

Perfect is what she is, she thought while sipping her wine. She may had taken some wrong turns lately, but she was Bulma Briefs, and she'd be damned if she couldn't manage to balance her personal life with work. It was all about setting your priorities straight, in the end. And Bulma was excellent in every aspect of her life; she was a talented and powerful businesswoman, a great mother, a good wife, an obedient daughter, a reliable friend. Her inventions had changed the lived of many and helped in saving the world countless times in the past. She was someone worth the credit, yet she rarely got any. Not even a "_thank you, Bulma, if it weren't for you, we'd have definitely been screwed."_ But it was okay, she concluded. She didn't need to hear the exact words to know how great she was.

Bulma laughed all of a sudden, breaking the silence of the dark room. She was happy and content with herself. Though her life had been crazier than anyone could even imagine, in the end, she had gotten everything she wanted—fame, money, a family, and a temperamental Saiyan prince for a husband. And although the latter wasn't exactly anticipated, it didn't make her feel any less glad for having him as well.

"Woman, what are you doing here?"

A gruff voice interrupted her thoughts and she turned her head to the source of the voice to find none other than the Saiyan prince himself, standing on the doorway. She could barely make out his silhouette due to the lack of lighting, but the coarse voice and flame-shaped hair were unmistakable traits. His arms were, oddly, resting on his sides instead of being crossed over his chest.

Bulma knew that it was only a matter of time before he'd sense her inside the house, but she didn't actually believe that he would interrupt his precious training in order to seek her out. She briefly allowed herself to take pride in the fact that she had him wrapped around her finger, despite what he may thought, and ponder on how much Vegeta had changed in the years he'd been residing on Earth. The cold and ruthless villain had somewhere along the road become a father and a lover.

She smiled brightly at him. "I _live_here, Vegeta, in case you have forgotten," she replied playfully. Honestly, she was glad he hadn't forgotten about her.

Vegeta snorted in displeasure at her answer, before walking closer to the sofa, so that he was standing barely three feet away from her. Now that he was in such proximity, Bulma could make out exactly what he was wearing and she wasn't in the least surprised to see that he was sporting his sleeveless spandex training suit. Not that it bothered her. After all, it clung to his muscles in a way that begged her to reach out and touch them.

Glancing quickly at the glass in Bulma's hand and taking a look at her slightly disheveled appearance, Vegeta scoffed. "You are inebriated," he stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bulma examined her half-empty glass in deep thought. "Not even close. I'm just content."

Vegeta bit back the _"more like insane"_ comment that resided on the tip of his tongue. "And why is that?" he asked instead, with only mild interest in his voice.

"Because my life is great," she answered simply, downing the rest of her wine and setting the empty glass back on the table. "I am successful, I have a great son, and—even though you're not exactly the epitome of fun—a nice husband. It would be greedy of me to say that I don't have everything I could possibly ask for, and a little more than that."

Vegeta contemplated pointing out how greedy she actually was. He'd known Bulma for nearly a decade now, and she had always been the one to seek out more, never being fully satisfied with what she had. It had been this way with him as well. In the beginning of their odd relationship, she was insatiable. Ever since the first time they'd had sex, she had become addicted to his touch, seeking him out at the most inappropriate times and places to sate her lust. And he'd be lying if he said that he didn't return those feelings just as fiercely.

He would never admit it, but Bulma's absence was affecting him more than he would have liked. After the Cell Games, he had shown up at Capsule Corp. and demanded to stay there for his son, clarifying that it had nothing to do with her or their past associations. She had understood. But as time passed, neither could drown the passion they had for each other and, eventually, they entered an exclusive relationship. Vegeta had been reluctant at first, but he slowly came to enjoy their current status. But since she had taken over her father's company, their allotted time together was cut down next to zero. Her job was demanding most of her attention and when—_if_—she had some time to spare, she usually devoted herself to Trunks. After all, she was the boy's mother and he needed her more than Vegeta did.

But the prince couldn't help feeling a little neglected. In the years of living with her, he had enjoyed being the prime object of her attention, and now they were driving apart. Sure, they still shared the same bed, but it had been an achingly long time since he'd felt her naked flesh against his own, or her ragged breath on his ear as he drove her to ecstasy. He had missed her, but Vegeta was not one to complain, especially on such ridiculous, as he put it, matters, so he gave her the silent treatment instead. Things were easier and less complicated this way.

However, he had been greatly surprised to sense her come home so early in the evening. It was rare that she finished work earlier than ten and, whenever she did, she usually made it to the bedroom barely in time to fall on their bed and pass out completely from exhaustion. But now, as he watched her closely, she looked anything _but_ tired. She actually looked content. And it seemed off to the Saiyan prince.

But Vegeta also didn't miss the playful tone in her voice that told him that maybe, _just maybe_, the time had come for things to go back to normal between them. It wasn't only about sex, he had missed their verbal spars as well. "I am not _nice_," Vegeta said in offense, though his glare was only half-hearted.

Bulma smirked. That was the man she fell for. "Of course not," she whispered before fisting her hands on the smooth material covering his chest and drawing him close for a kiss. "You're great." Her lips brushed against his and she kissed him passionately, before he had time to protest. In the end, the passion got the best of him and he found himself actually returning the gesture.

However, much to his disdain, Bulma pulled away abruptly, just when Vegeta had started leaning into her, and before things got out of hand. She winked at the confused prince, before she pushed him off her and stood up, walking towards their bedroom and leaving an astounded Vegeta behind, to stare at her bouncing butt. A content smile played on the heiress's lips as she climbed the stairs.

There was indeed so much more in life besides working and helping in saving the world. There was love and fun and spending time with your family and making the most of it. As of tomorrow, she would give herself a two-week vacation from work and devote herself to her family. She would catch up on everything Trunks had done that she had missed, and make sure she never missed out on anything he did anymore.

And she would definitely take a chance and try to win Vegeta over once again. It was something worth the trouble. Though, judging from the sound of his heavy and vigorous footsteps on the staircase, she wouldn't have to work extra hard on that. He still needed her like she needed him, and she was glad that they were alone for the night in their abnormally large house to engage in whatever activities they wanted. Tonight, they would reconcile with each other and get reacquainted with each other's body. They would show one another that, no matter what life threw in their way, in the end, they would still find their way to each other.

And that was really something more.


End file.
